


Forged in Pain

by ladydragon543



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Familial Abuse, Pre War Era, Spouse Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:30:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon543/pseuds/ladydragon543
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into Lucius Malfoy's childhood. Growing up Malfoy, and how he meets Tom Riddle. Or at least, my take on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forged in Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, this went a totally different direction than what I was going for at first. No, really. I tried writing him a happy go lucky childhood--and I couldn’t. So instead, you get this. As such--feedback is greatly appreciated. =)
> 
> I couldn't find any name for Lucius' mother, thus the label of Regina Malfoy as an OC, cause I had to name her.
> 
> Also, on the ages--Tom Riddle was born in 1926. Lucius Malfoy was born in 1954. So I have no idea how they met in Cannon, cause they sure as hell didn’t go to school together. I didn’t think Tom taught there, but I could be wrong. Anyway, enjoy!

Lucius Malfoy was four the first time he saw his father strike his mother. Abraxas Malfoy had been growing angrier and angrier over the months before the incident, though neither Lucius nor his mother had ever found out why. They assumed it would blow over eventually, neither ever suspected what they would be in for over the years to come.

Lucius remembered that the outburst had been over something trivial, the placement of a tapestry his father had had an extreme dislike of. His mother had told him he was overreacting with an amused smile on her face, as she had often done in the past, when suddenly she was on the floor, dazed, a trickle of blood coming from her mouth.

Lucius, being so young, started crying and cowering in the corner. His father turned to deal with him when his mother spoke, her voice hard as diamonds. "If you touch my son, Abraxas, I _will_ leave you."

She was standing again, still bleeding and watching her husband cautiously. Her eyes were guarded, but Lucius could tell that she meant it.

"You need to learn your place, _wife_! You will not dishonor me!" He gave her another vicious backhand, which so stunned her that she didn't try to move when he did it again, and then threw her hard against the wall. She hit it with a terrible thud, and crumpled to the ground, where she lay still, though breathing.

When his father turned towards Lucius, still cowering in the corner, there wasn't a single flicker of remorse. Just hatred. "Look at you. Cowering in a corner. You're a Malfoy! Stand up straight, you worthless boy! I'll teach you to be afraid!"

Abaraxas reached out, but Lucius dodged and ran. The older man didn't bother to chase after him, just laughed - a dark, evil echo that followed him deep into the heart of the Manor.

The next day, at the sight of his mother's bruised face, Lucius was grateful his father hadn't caught him. He'd been fast enough.

The next time, he wasn't.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Lucius was eight when he saw his father curse his mother for the first time. By then the young boy had learned to tune out the yelling, the begging, the fighting, the horrible cracking sound of breaking bones. He had learned to hide from his father whenever possible. He had also learned the proper potions one should take after a beating, and had taken to leaving them in his mother's rooms, where she could heal herself.

That one act of kindness was the only acknowledgment between mother and son of their predicament. They were Malfoys, and a Malfoy never turned on their kin.

One night, after his father had broken his mother's arm, several ribs, and two fingers, Lucius was forced to go into the Manor stores for a stronger healing potion. One of the breaks was so bad that, even with setting and splinting it, dealing with it the _muggle_ way, it still may not set correctly, potion or not.

Unfortunately for Lucius, his father was waiting for him outside the stores. Lucius paused in mid stride, nearly running into the older man. He'd been in the middle of stuffing a few vials and bottles into his bag. At the sight of his father's expensive basilisk boots, Lucius gulped, and looked up.

Abraxas Malfoy was a very tall and slender man, as his father had been before him. He and Lucius shared the Malfoy trait of white-blonde hair, the slate grey eyes, and the aristocratic set of their noses. When their eyes met, his fathers eyes narrowed and anger burned through them, blazing red.

"So, _this_ is what you've been doing behind my back. Helping your worthless mother."

The elder Malfoy lashed out suddenly, grabbing Lucius roughly by his hair, twisting, making the boy cry out in pain. His father's voice was little more than a distorted hiss.

"How dare you undermine me? I am lord and master here! If I wanted your mother to get help, I'd send for it!"

He threw Lucius hard against the wall, and sneered in satisfaction as the boy's head hit with a crack against it. Lucius saw stars for a moment, but he managed to stay conscious. He clutched at the bag of potions, which only seemed to enrage his father further.

"You still wish to help your mother, wretch? Fine. I will give her something _special_ for you to heal!"

He cuffed Lucius soundly on his head, making it ring from the earlier injury, before grabbing his arm and dragging him through the kitchens, up the servants entrance that lead to the Lady of the House's room.

Abraxas pushed Lucius roughly through a tapestry that hid the passage, and into a lavishly furnished room. It held a canopy bed dressed in the best silks, an ancestral vanity with a charmed mirror on the left hand side with a writing table and lounge directly opposite. Heavy blue drapes covered windows that, when opened, looked out over the manor's grounds.

His mother was sitting on the chaise lounge, and startled so badly that she could hardly conceal a cry of pain as she jarred her earlier injuries. His father entered right on his heels, with a snarl ready on his lips. Lucius had never seen him more angry.

"So, vile woman! Horrid wife! You've been trying to turn my boy against me! I won't have it, do you hear me? I'll not stand for disobedience in my house!"

His mother paled, and Lucius tried to turn away. His father grabbed his chin, and forced him to face her.

"No. Oh no. You're so concerned for your mother, your _dear mother--_ it wouldn't be right if You. Didn't. _Watch._ You will watch, or you will be next. Do you understand me, boy?"

Abraxas released him suddenly, and it was all Lucius could do not to rub at his painful jaw. He kept his eyes on his mother, who had gone dreadfully white. She gazed at Lucius, before looking back at her husband, shaking with fear.

"M-my Lord, I swear to you, we have not disobeyed you. I haven't turned your son against you. Never!"

His father did nothing for a moment, and Lucius felt suddenly hopeful. Maybe it was over, for now. And then his fathers eyes narrowed, anger pooling in their depths and he calmly retrieved his wand from his pocket.

"Are you calling me a liar in my own home, Regina? Is that what you think of me? A liar and a fool?"

His mother's eyes were wide and disbelieving, and shiny with unshed tears. "No, my Lord. Of course not." Her voice was whisper-soft.

The anger bled away, and there was nothing left but cool calm in his fathers eyes. Lucius was shaking by now, so badly that the potions in the satchel he still wore were tinkling together in a noisy fashion.

For a moment, no one moved. Then his father’s hand moved so fast that Lucius barely saw it, twisting his wand in a cruel fashion. " _Crucio_!"

Lucius would never forget his mother's screams as she fell, writhing, to the floor. Nor the unholy light in his fathers eyes as he took in the scene, before leaving.

At that moment, Lucius Malfoy would have done anything, _anything_ , to stop his father.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The Malfoy heir was a third-year at Hogwarts when he received the news of his mothers death.

Horace Slughorn was a good man, a kind man, for all that he was a Slytherin. He was a man that Lucius had come to both admire for his political savvy, and despise for his over fondness for a strong spirit. As Lucius' Head of House, it was his duty to tell Lucius the awful news.

He did it after lunch, citing a home emergency.  
They were sitting in Slughorns office, Lucius with a glass of butterbeer in his hand, and Horace with a snifter of brandy.

"My boy, I'm afraid I've got some terrible news for you."

Lucius had the mug of butterbeer half raised to his lips, and he stopped, cold. Before Slughorn could say another word, he knew. He suddenly knew.

"It's my mother, isn't it, Sir?"

The older man blinked in surprise at how calm the blonde boy sounded, and then nodded.

"I'm afraid so, yes. It seems as if she has taken her own life. They do not know why. There was no note, nothing to indicate why she would do such a thing."

Of course, Lucius knew. But he said nothing. Slughorn took his silence as shock, and continued.

"Your father has requested that you not return until the day of the funeral, which will be, in accordance to your Houses traditions, on the third day of this week. There will, of course, be an official investigation, but..."

The professor drifted off, unwilling to go on. It was a common practice for the Aurory to take suicides at face value. If there was any foul play--and Lucius was damn well sure there had been--the culprit was normally not brought to justice in a court of law.

Nor would Lucius be able to act against his father. He was well and truly alone now.

"My boy--if there is anything I can do for you, please. Ask. I shall do all that is within my power to help you."

Lucius nodded, slightly numb. Professor Slughorn nodded, and excused him from his classes for the rest of the day.

Just as he was about to leave, Lucius stopped. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Can you bring my mother back from the dead?"

"...No, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sorry to say, I cannot. One cannot cheat death."

"I see. Thank you, sir."

His mother's funeral was held on Wednesday, November 20th, 1969 three days after her death, as was Malfoy tradition. There were precious few mourners. A handful of acquaintances, political contacts of his father.

Only one woman was there that Lucius would have ever called his mother's 'friend'. She stood on the fringes of the ceremony as the body was annointed in sacred oils, blessed by a high priest of Hecate, and burned, as tradition dictated.

His mother's ashes would be collected and mixed with yet another sacred oil, poured into a ceremonial urn, and left alone in a crypt for yet another three days. After, the urn would be set into a magical chamber, and set alight with fiend fyre. When the fiend fyre died down, left in the urns place would be a protection diamond, to be set somewhere in the house or grounds to anchor yet another blood ward. Another Malfoy tradition that had served the house well in the past.

The woman watched, tears streaming down her cheeks, as the body burned. When only ashes remained, she turned, nodded to Lucius, and apparated away. The young man never saw her again.

Abraxas never touched Lucius in a violent manner after the funeral. He put on a good show, the grieving widower and now single father. The masses ate it up. They never suspected the truth.

That summer, his father introduced him to a man who had taken a keen interest in the Malfoy house. A young man in his forties ( young by wizarding standards), but a powerful one, Tom Riddle was gaining no small amount of political clout.

When Tom offered to tutor Lucius, the young man nearly declined. Until he offered Lucius what he wanted more than anything.

 _Revenge_.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time Lucius had turned sixteen, he and Tom were very close, age difference be damned. Tom was a charismatic man, and he had revolutionary ideals for their world. He wanted to ensure the next magical generations were not polluted or corrupted.

He was arguing for Magical Creature registration--especially of Werewolves. For their safety, of course, and also so they could take part in research for a possible cure. He lobbied for spell reclassifications--especially those that dealt with blood magic.

"The cure for Lycanthropy lies in the blood." he once told Lucius. He was fourteen at the time.

"If we cannot use certain blood spells, then we cannot find a cure. The laws must be changed."

Lucius had snorted. "Why should we care, Tom? Why not just shoot them and be done with it? They're little more than mongrels."

Tom threw his head back and laughed. "Oh! Lucius. So short sighted. Must I have you resorted? Think like a Slytherin, dear boy. Why else?"

The teen pondered it a moment, before he nodded, eyes widening in understanding.

"Ah...you wish to be the one they are grateful to. If you create a cure, you can control it. Control the cure, control the werewolves. They'd be your slaves, and willingly so."

Tom grinned. "Correct! We'll make a politician of you yet, Lucius."

And with Tom's tutelage, Lucius suddenly went from studious boy whom everyone in Slytherin house went to for help, to a charismatic leader. He earned top marks in all his classes, even potions, though he lacked some natural knack for it.

When he was not at school, Lucius was often in the other man's presence, and would in fact be staying with him for the summer prior to his seventh year. His father was, of course, very pleased at the excellent connections his son was making thanks to Tom.

By that point, of course, both pupil and mentor had an extreme hatred for the odious old man. Their mutual disgust for him was only stayed by the fact that, in accordance with Malfoy tradition, the heir could only inherit upon the natural death of the sitting Lord of the House. They could do nothing to act against him at the moment.

Three weeks were left of their time together, when Tom revealed to Lucius a secret. He had a secret organization, a brotherhood, devoted to his cause. If he joined, he would be expected to seek out possible candidates amongst the younger years at Hogwarts.

"I have, Lucius, been grooming you to join me. To join requires three things--unwavering loyalty to the cause, your complete trust in me, and a willingness to bear my mark. Only my most trusted bear this mark, Lucius."

Lucius was awed at being asked to join, and immediately agreed. Tom smiled. "Present me your left arm, Lucius Malfoy."

Lucius did as he was told, and bared his inner arm to Tom. The older man ran a hand lightly down the tender skin there, before settling a few inches below the elbow.

"You are quite sure, Lucius? This will set things in motion. Things will change. Once you bear this mark, it cannot be removed, saved by death. Mine, or yours."

"I am sure, Tom. Please."

With a nod, and another light stroke, Tom began. " _Morsmordre!_

It was a curious sensation, at first. Hot and tingling, but not painful. Tom used his finger to trace an image, over and over again, and while Lucius couldn't see anything, he could _feel_ it. It was as if something were moving, writhing under his skin.

Suddenly, the heat flared into blinding pain, and though he tried to stop it, Lucius let out a harsh cry. He was barely able to keep from tearing his arm away from Tom.

Then suddenly just like that, the pain stopped. Lucius was panting and sweating all over. He was shaky, but otherwise fine. An ache had settled into his left arm, but it was nothing like it had been.

Tom released his arm and took a step back, to let Lucius inspect his efforts.

Lucius could not help but be drawn to the design. The image was of a skull, with a snake protruding from is mouth. It was completely black, and looked more like a brand than any tattoo he'd ever seen. When Lucius ran his fingertips over it, he could feel that the skin was...different. Raised slightly. There was a pulsing presence that felt warm to the touch, and very pleased.

Lucius looked at the older man in front of him, a smile on his face.

"Thank you, Tom."

Tom smiled. "I believe its time you start calling me Lord Voldemort, Lucius. At least, only whilst we are in public..."

Lucius was giddy as he gave his friend a courtly bow, mostly serious. "Of course, my Lord."


End file.
